


Horniness, Uh, Finds A Way (or Just Follow The (Sex) Screams)

by meh_guh



Category: Jurassic Park (Movies)
Genre: Angry Sex, M/M, May/December Relationship, Office Sex, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-10
Updated: 2016-05-10
Packaged: 2018-06-07 13:49:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6807553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meh_guh/pseuds/meh_guh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Owen Grady just has <i>one</i> last thing to do before he ships out to his new job: get Dr Malcolm to autograph his book. Of course this results in angry office sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Horniness, Uh, Finds A Way (or Just Follow The (Sex) Screams)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hellotailor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellotailor/gifts).



> Requested by hellotailor on twitter some godawfully long time ago (I am the _worst_ at timely prompt-fills) with the prompt “May-December trash with Owen going to Ian Malcolm for fanboying but getting instead nuclear levels of snark, vicious warnings and a fuckton of fucking”.  
>  Caveat: I have not seen (and from what I’ve heard am _never_ gonna see) Jurassic World. But given everything I’ve heard has Owen’s characterisation p much ‘Narky Tough Man Version 3 (™)’, I don’t feel too guilty for any characterisation differences. I rewatched the first two JPs like eight times to make up for it, though.

' _I've read everything you ever published_ ,' Owen muttered to himself, shifting the copy of “God Creates Dinosaurs” to sit more snugly under his arm. 'Damn, no. Uh... _Dr Malcolm, I'm a huge admirer-_ ' 

He leaned into the nearest cork board covered in flyers about available rooms, offers of tutors and attempts to sell shitty guitars and banged his head against it a few times. “Creepy Stalker” wasn’t what he wanted to convey.

‘OK,’ he said, forehead pressed against a photo of a battered impala with three different colours of body panels and a listed price of $600. ‘Professional. I’m a dinosaur professional now, this is _colleagues_ not fanboy-and-hero.’

Owen took a deep breath and pushed off the wall. He was a professional, he was an adult and he was _not_ hyperventilating.

Dr Malcolm’s office door was open, chaotic piles of books and loose-leaf papers visible as Owen approached and rapped on the frame.

Dr Malcolm called a distracted-sounding invitation, the baritone sending a shiver down Owen’s spine that he resolutely ignored. Teenage fantasies weren’t why he’d come; Owen was going to get an autograph, shake Dr Malcolm’s hand, then go back to his hotel to wank in the shower until he passed out like an adult. Owen took a breath and stepped in to get his first real-life glimpse of the man himself.

The dark hair had silvered but remained just as thick and tousled. The tan still burnished arms which remained strongly-muscled, sleeves pushed up past the elbows putting them on display. And framing the dark, piercing eyes were a pair of heavy-rimmed black glasses.

Owen felt his mouth go dry.

‘I’m not taking any more doctoral students on until you stop being so infuriatingly stupid about everything,’ Dr Malcolm said, then his gaze dropped to the book under Owen’s arm. ‘Huh. Normally my, uh, fans restrict themselves to stalking me at arranged signings.’

‘Which you haven’t arranged in the last ten years,’ Owen pointed out before he could stop himself. ‘Uh. Sorry.’

Dr Malcolm grinned and stood up. In the cramped and chaotic office his sheer size dominated the room. Owen wasn’t used to looking up at people, but Dr Malcolm had a good few inches on him. He liked it.

‘A bit of fight in you,’ Dr Malcolm quirked an eyebrow and reached towards Owen’s copy of his book. ‘I suppose you want an autograph for that thing.’

His fingers brushed over Owen’s on the dust jacket, sending another spark along Owen’s spine. Owen felt his face heat at the probably-accidental contact, imagined it dragging out as a teasing stroke.

‘If you don’t mind,’ he managed, though it came out three-AM-after-a-bender-raspy rather than suave. Owen considered scrabbling for cool points, but gave up and embraced his inner nerd. ‘I’m _such_ a fan of your work, Dr Malcolm!’

Dr Malcolm smirked, the left side of his mouth twitching up as he leaned his butt against the edge of his desk. He propped the book open on one taught thigh cocked up and out, slacks outlining a damn impressive package. Owen tried to tell himself he was fantasising, but damn, if that was unintentional he’d probably _die_ if Dr Malcolm actually tried to be seductive.

‘Never let it be said I don’t appreciate a degree of persistence,’ Dr Malcolm twisted and clicked a ballpoint pen open and closed in a quick “shave and a haircut, two cents!”. ‘You got a message in mind, or should I… see where the mood takes me?’

Owen coughed to cover up how he had suddenly choked on his own breath. ‘...um. Surprise me?’

Dr Malcolm considered him for a moment, then licked his lower lip and put the book and the pen down on the desk without looking. ‘Close the door.’

Owen scrabbled behind himself for the edge of the door before he could think and slammed it closed harder than he intended. Alone in Dr Malcolm’s private office, the laser gaze of the man himself unblinkingly locked on Owen. He’d only ever let himself picture this late at night after a few too many beers.

Dr Malcolm smirked as Owen’s breathing sped up. ‘On your knees, then.’

Owen obeyed so quickly he bruised his knee on a thick book on chaos theory lying on the floor. He stared up several miles of black denim to where Dr Malcolm’s fingers had started opening his flies. Owen made a desperate noise in the back of his throat and reached up to help, knuckles dragging over the rising swell of Dr Malcolm’s erection inside black silk boxers.

Dr Malcolm hitched forward to slide his jeans down enough to get his cock out, then resumed leaning against his desk. Owen pulled the waistband of his boxers down and dived forward to suck Dr Malcolm down as deep as he’d go.

His throat stretched in the way he always loved, though his mouth had gone dry with unanticipated lust. He pulled back and licked his lips, worked up a little spit, then got to work.

‘Hmm, ah,’ Dr Malcolm’s hand curled into the short hairs at the back of Owen’s neck and his hips twitched forward. ‘Oh yeah. Better than how I thought my afternoon was going.’

Owen made a distracted curious noise in the back of his throat and rubbed the heel of his hand over his own trapped erection. He was _never_ washing his _anything_ again; this was beyond any fantasy he’d ever managed to conjure up. The salty musk, the weight of Dr Malcolm’s cock pressing his throat open, the sheer sensual presence of the man…

‘Honestly I thought I was, uh, going to be fending off reporters,’ Dr Malcolm dug his nails into Owen’s skull as Owen added a delicate scrape of teeth on his upswing. ‘Ungh, _yeah_. Idiot questions, thought I made myself clear the _last_ time. Fucking Hammond family, never learn.’

Owen wrestled his own pants open, easing back on the cocksucking to catch his breath and get his own pants open.

‘Hammond family?’ he said, distracted by his suddenly-uncooperative belt. ‘Great benefits, they even included dental and four trips home a year-’

He finally got his flies open, wrapped a hand around himself with a stuttering groan, then Dr Malcolm’s giant hand closed around his throat before he could get back to work. Owen gurgled, blinking stupidly up into Dr Malcolm’s now-furious eyes.

‘You’re working for the Hammonds?’ Dr Malcolm said, hand squeezing just a little too hard over Owen’s windpipe. ‘On the new, improved murder island?’

Owen swallowed, throat working under Dr Malcolm’s grip. It wasn’t his usual line of kink, and the undercurrent of fear running down his spine was a little sharper than he liked. He sat back and was relieved when Dr Malcolm let go.

‘Y’know,’ Owen made a point of rubbing at his neck and glared up at Dr Malcolm. ‘It’s considered polite to check boundaries before you bust out the giant choke hands, just saying.’

Dr Malcolm’s giant choke hands balled into fists which he pressed into his thighs. ‘The park? New, even more irresponsible mass-murder? _You_ know, for someone who’s an avid reader, you didn’t actually, uh, take the intended lesson from my book.’

Owen found himself at a loss for once. True, Dr Malcolm’s experiences with Jurassic Park had been horrifying and he had no wish to press on the man’s emotional bruises. But the park today was _not_ the park twenty years ago. Progress had been made in all sorts of areas, the public had had two decades to get their heads around the risks and rewards of visiting and most importantly, Owen was a _spectacular_ wrangler. The new park on its worst day was gonna beat Disneyland on its best.

‘Far be it for me to assume greater expertise,’ Dr Malcolm continued when Owen stayed silent, eyes still flashing behind his glasses. ‘Just because my daughter, my friends and, oh yes, _I_ almost died more times than I can count - and I’m a mathematician, I can count _really high_ -’

‘Did you want your cock sucked or not?’ Owen broke in, still painfully hard and unwilling to let _the_ fantasy of a lifetime fizzle because of political or ideological differences. Even if Dr Malcolm was wronger than wrong on this.

Dr Malcolm snarled down at Owen in a totally-not-hot way and fisted his hand in Owen’s hair to pull him back into line. ‘Well it’s not like I’ll get the chance again once you’ve gone off to your idiotic death, so suck like it’s the last one you’ll taste.’

Owen spent approximately three nanoseconds weighing the options before he opened up and fisted his hands in the loosened fabric over Dr Malcolm’s hips. Dr Malcolm thrust forward; more rough than Owen usually liked it, but totally perfect in the unexpectedly-combative atmosphere of the office.

His throat stretched around Dr Malcolm’s cock and he groaned, internally grinning as Dr Malcolm’s hands fisted a little harder in his hair. He let his teeth scrape on Dr Malcolm’s second thrust; half because it was harder to keep careful under rough treatment and half to try giving as good as he was getting. Dr Malcolm swore and ratcheted up fucking Owen’s face.

Owen lost track of time completely, the intensity of Dr Malcolm’s ire and his own inability to pry his own hands loose to give his own cock some relief making him a little lightheaded. He made a small, desperate noise and suddenly Dr Malcolm pulled back, dragged Owen away by the hair and grinningly-glared down at him.

‘Bent over the desk, I think,’ Dr Malcolm said, tugging at Owen’s hair to encourage him to his feet. ‘Maybe I can fuck the stupid out of you.’

Owen scrambled up, throat feeling raw and well-used around the groan as his jeans-covered erection shifted when he stood.

Dr Malcolm narrowed his eyes and gave Owen a critical look. ‘Naked, I think. Bent over my desk, naked and holding yourself open for me.’

‘Jesus _fuuuuuck_...’ Owen moaned and tore his shirt off, shoved his jeans down and thanked god he’d worn flip flops today. Within five seconds he was utterly naked and leaking under Dr Malcolm’s continued study.

Dr Malcolm made an approving noise that made Owen’s cock twitch without being touched, then settled his hands on Owen’s hips to maneuver him into position facing the desk. He placed a gentle-yet-firm hand between Owen’s shoulder blades and pressed him face-down against a print out of someone’s essay with red corrections all over the first page.

‘Spread for me,’ Dr Malcolm rumbled just behind Owen’s ear, his hands wrapping around Owen’s wrists to pose him properly. He hummed and bit down on the back of Owen’s neck when he obeyed. ‘Just, uh, like that, yeah.’

Owen gave him another helpless, strangled noise in response and dug his fingers into his own cheeks to hold himself open.

Dr Malcolm chuckled and stepped away. Trembling, Owen stayed put while he could hear Dr Malcolm rustling and muttering behind him. After approximately three aeons, something thumped down on the desk beside Owen’s head.

‘Boy Butter,’ he read when his eyes focussed enough on the label. ‘Why _Professor_.’

Dr Malcolm huffed. ‘Yeah, I’m forever seducing students. That’s why it took me five minutes to _find_ it. Not because Mildred from admin thinks every office is her own private investigation and gossip-collection space.’

‘Fine, fine,’ Owen widened his stance a little when Dr Malcolm’s huge hand settled below his hip. ‘Just glad it’s not hand cream or vaseline. You do you, Doctor M.’

‘Hmm,’ Dr Malcolm drummed his fingers on Owen’s arse. ‘On reflection, no. I’d rather do you.’

Owen whimpered.

‘But before we get to that,’ Dr Malcolm said, his other hand slipping between Owen’s thighs to cup his balls. ‘I think I’m gonna eat you out. Re-imagining the condemned man’s last meal; Jankowicz in the lit department would be so proud of me. If, y’know, he wasn’t still mad about the, uh, incident at the Dean’s Christmas party.’

Before Owen could parse that, there was a sudden overwhelming wet pressure against his hole. He made the least dignified sound he could ever remember hearing and bucked into the desk hard. Owen swore and dug his nails into his cheeks even harder, canting his hips back and bracing better.

‘That’s, uh,’ Dr Malcolm said, dragging his tongue from Owen’s taint to the top of his cleft before smacking his lips like he was in some fucking Olive Garden. ‘Yeah, hold it there. I’m gonna enjoy this.’

Probably not as much as Owen would, Owen thought as Dr Malcolm bit into the sensitive flesh over his tailbone before rubbing soothing wet tongue over the abused flesh. Dr Malcolm shifted lower until his lips pressed against Owen’s hole and he thrust his tongue against the ring of muscle a couple of times before Owen made himself relax enough to let it inside. Almost immediately, Dr Malcolm pressed a finger in alongside his tongue; slick and hard and calloused alongside the forceful wet heat of his tongue. Owen whined and felt his cock jerk against the desk, no doubt leaving a smear of precum on the varnished pine.

‘ _Please_ ,’ he gasped, shoving back into Dr Malcolm’s face. ‘Harder, Dr Malcolm, I can take it.’

‘I just bet you can,’ Dr Malcolm said, tone nasty again even as he pressed a second slick finger inside Owen. ‘Filthy boy just gagging to be put in his place, just look at you staying put and desperate for more.’

‘ _Yes_ , Christ,’ Owen clenched around Dr Malcolm’s fingers deliberately. ‘Do me, do whatever you want, just _do it_ already!’

‘You’re on,’ Dr Malcolm growled and pressed a third finger in a little faster than was totally comfortable. His other hand, just as slick with lube, closed around Owen’s balls and started rolling them in time with his fingers’ thrusts. ‘Let me know when you’re ready to step things up.’

Wildly turned on now, Owen gasped as Dr Malcolm’s fingers grazed over his prostate and twisted to glare over his own shoulder. ‘You sure _you’re_ up for it, sir? I think it’s you taking your time.’

‘ _Youth_ ,’ Dr Malcolm muttered with an audible eye roll and curled all three fingers into Owen’s prostate hard. Owen slammed his own face into the desk and swore. ‘Always in a rush. Reckless and thinks it’s immortal.’

‘Least I know time’s a limited resource,’ Owen shot back, scrunching his face to see if he’d managed to break his nose during sex again. It seemed fine after the initial throb, though, and there was no blood. ‘You smell the flowers any longer and we’ll neither of us be in the mood.’

‘Ah?’ Dr Malcolm shifted his grip to Owen’s still-hard cock and gave it a few strokes before returning his grip to Owen’s balls. ‘Doesn’t _feel_ like your mood’s fading, unless it’s the delayed gratification you don’t like. No wonder you’re so ready to throw your idiot life away if five minutes is all the sex you can handle without falling to pieces.’

Owen bit down on a gasp and squeezed down on Dr Malcolm’s fingers, a few quick clench-release beats that dragged him a little deeper into Owen. ‘I can take all you’ve got, _Ian_. But I’m getting restless.’

Dr Malcolm gave Owen’s balls a sharp tug, then drew his fingers out, leaving Owen feeling empty and even more desperate. He shifted back even further, trying to chase the feeling of being filled. ‘ _Please_.’

‘Never let it be said I don’t take requests,’ Dr Malcolm said over the sound of a foil packet tearing open. ‘I hope you know how to too. Stay like that.’

Owen gasped as the slick head of Dr Malcolm’s cock pressed against his hole, hot and insistent and feeling like a coke can. Dr Malcolm paused for a moment to shift angles, then he pressed forward; an inexorable slide that had Owen’s knees trembling and his breath coming in pants.

‘Jesus fuuuuuuck,’ Owen breathed out as Dr Malcolm’s balls finally slapped into his own. ‘Oh my _god_...’

‘You, uh, you good?’ Dr Malcolm said, tone distracted as his fingers dug into Owen’s hips. ‘Because I am about three seconds away from fucking you all the way through my desk.’

‘One moment,’ Owen breathed in through his nose and out his mouth until the stretch had moved from almost-too-much to full-steam-ahead. He was still holding himself open, he was freshly-aware. Hands trapped and legs spread and Dr Malcolm’s cock ready to pound him into nirvana. Owen grinned. ‘Yeah, go for it, man.’

Dr Malcolm didn’t bother double checking, he just pulled back until just the head remained inside Owen before snapping his hips forward like a gunshot. Again and again he pounded into Owen, brutal and perfect and just on the edge of enough.

Owen swallowed a grunt and pushed his hips back in concert with Dr Malcolm’s, cock smacking into the desk with every thrust. Dr Malcolm’s fingers tightened on his hips, hard enough Owen knew he was going to have black bruises under his jeans for a week, then he reached around to wrap his hand around Owen’s desperate cock.

‘Come on,’ Dr Malcolm said, jerking Owen in counterpoint to fucking him. ‘ _Come on_ , let go. Give it up for me, you suicidal idiot.’

Owen whimpered and obeyed, clenching hard around Dr Malcolm and splattering all over the desk. Dr Malcolm breathed out hard, like he’d been punched, and sped up again. Two dozen seconds later he slammed all the way in and froze, a low, pained groan escaping as he came.

Owen let his hands drop, cramping and tingling from holding position for so long. Dr Malcolm eased back with a muttered curse and stepped away. Owen heard the over-loud sound of him doing his zipper up again and made himself straighten up and fix his own clothes.

‘It’s not the same situation,’ he said, keeping his eyes on his own hands and his tone conciliatory. ‘Not as the original island and not the same as San Diego. It really _is_ safe this time, Dr Malcolm.’

Dr Malcolm sighed; a heavy, defeated sound in stark contrast to the anger of a few moments ago. ‘I’ve heard that before.’

Owen frowned and looked over to see Dr Malcolm sagging against the wall next to the door, one hand over his face, shoulders slumped. He drew a few deep breaths, then straightened into something more insouciant.

‘What’s your name, anyway?’ Dr Malcolm said, shooting Owen an unhappy grin. ‘I’ll keep an eye out for your obit. Throw a one-man wake in my living room.’

‘Owen Grady,’ Owen said, his own mouth twitching up in a more genuine smile. ‘If you’re right, I guess I’d appreciate that. If _I’m_ right, you wanna treat me to that drink on my first leave?’

Dr Malcolm let out a surprised huff, then nodded. ‘Sure. It’s the world’s most depressing date. Now get outta here, I have office hours starting soon.’

Owen gave himself a once-over to check he was decent enough to leave, grabbed his still-unautographed book and left, dodging around a starry-eyed co-ed with her fist raised to knock on the door. He gave her a wink and sauntered down the hallway, already planning a filthy weekend when he got his first leave.

Taking this job had _definitely_ been the best idea ever.


End file.
